Omne Trium Perfectum
by Kimchi Cake
Summary: The beginning, middle, and end of Tsuna's married life (and then some). *Sequel to Sets of Ten* (Rule63 Fem!Tsuna)(Part 3 of my X series)
1. Chapter 1

Tsuna didn't recall the wedding being anything spectacular, though logically she knew that it must have been. It had been a Vongola celebration, after all. She was just happy that she hadn't cried like she'd done every day leading up to her nuptials.

Maybe that was why she didn't remember anything about the actual ceremony or the events leading up to it - she had been too focused on trying not to breakdown and embarrass herself in front of her spouse and the upper echelon of the Family.

Now as she sat on the bed she was expected to share with her new husband, Tsuna could feel the bitter swell of nausea paired with the burn of tears. She sniffed softly and glanced at the shut door leading to the bathroom when she heard the creak of the pipes stopping. She wasn't ready for this.

She wasn't sure she'd ever be ready for this.

Which was really sort of pathetic seeing as she had known about the engagement for half of her life. She had even lived in the same house as the man for the last two years of her life to "see if she was up to the duty of marrying the next don".

It was almost funny how everyone liked to pretend she had a choice in the matter.

The moment he reentered the room, Tsuna felt herself tense instinctively. It proved to be for naught as he chose ignored her while going through what she assumed to be his nightly routine. She didn't dare look up from her hands twisting together nervously in her lap even as she felt the bed shift. Tsuna winced as a hand landed roughly on her shoulder and jerked her to face him. Expecting the worse, Tsuna stifled a whimper.

Her husband sneered, "Quit whining and go to bed, Brat."

Tsuna's eyes shot open in shock, and she stared at the man next to her in disbelief as he leaned to turn off the light. Soon enough, he was under the covers with his back to her, and Tsuna had to press her hands to her mouth to muffle the sob that threatened to escape.

She didn't get any sleep that night, and she doubted that Xanxus had gotten any, either.

* * *

Almost two months of marriage and nothing had yet to happen in the bedroom besides one occasion of Xanxus yelling at her.

He had ended up leaving after he caught himself raising his cup to throw at her, slamming the door behind him with a snarled curse followed shortly by the sound of glass shattering in the hall. Tsuna hadn't see him for the next three days. The third night after the incident – Tsuna wouldn't call it an argument; arguments required both of their participation – he entered the room as if nothing had happened and went through his regular routine before laying down and falling asleep without saying a single word. He hadn't even looked at her.

It seemed as though things were back to normal.

Tsuna would call their marriage a joke if she didn't think she'd be killed for it. Well, maybe not killed, threatened, more likely. Tsuna wasn't very smart – she had nearly flunked out of school at fourteen – but even she had realized that a legitimate son of the ninth shouldn't have had to marry someone else with Vongola blood, excuses of reintroducing the first's line be damned. Along with that realization came the one that if anything happened to Tsuna before an heir was born, Xanxus would be screwed.

While she doubted anyone could kill him to usurp his position as Decimo– she had learned that her husband was something like a raging force of nature – his progeny, if he could find a woman to carry them that _hadn't_ been tied to him contractually for the most part of her life, would have no right to the Vongola.

And if she wasn't mistaken, if she died before bearing Xanxus an heir, the Vongola would have no other of the Vongola bloodline to carry on the title of don. The famigilia would probably crumble from the inside out if that happened, and wasn't that a comforting thought? It took her husband and his supporters off of her list of people likely to try to kill her just for existing and placed them on her (very short) list of people trying to keep her alive.

Tsuna idly wondered if all arranged marriages were like hers.

* * *

The servants whispered.

They talked of how the maids have yet to find blood on the sheets. They talked of her impure blood and her bastard husband, and how their children wouldn't be worthy of running the famiglia. There was even a small betting pool among some of the gutsier employees on how long it would take before Xanxus killed her. (Tsuna could already tell who was going to win that one – the oldest chef had declared her safe until she had a son, and that was exactly what had been implied by the ninth's cloud guardian.)

They all seemed to think that Tsuna couldn't understand what they were saying, so most didn't even bother to hide what they talked about while they cleaned in her presence. She supposed it was because she only repeated the same five or so words over and over.

She was mostly fine with it. None of what they said was false, and harmless gossip had stopped bothering her in middle school. She just wished that they would find something else to talk about, now. It had been nearly half a year, yet every morning when they maids came to tidy up the bedroom, they cast what were mostly discreet glances and made hushed remarks under their breath to one another.

Tsuna wondered what would happen if her husband heard even a hint of what passed the servants' lips, and the thought didn't shock her as much as it would have a year ago. She made a quiet promise to herself to not breathe a word of any of it ever, if only for the sake of keeping everyone alive and mostly unharmed.

Because for all that they were shameless gossips, they had enough foresight to whisper, and they were always polite to her. It would be terrible if Xanxus killed everyone for mindless chatter. Besides, she couldn't blame them for their talk. If any of her friends were in the mansion – or Italy, in general – she probably would have been talking to them about her train wreck of a marriage, too.


	2. Chapter 2

Tsuna was a worried mess.

A servant had approached her with a message from her husband, and all that the short note had said was that he "wished to speak to her". That sounded like a code for her impending death if there was ever going to be one.

Xanxus didn't talk to her. Nor did he ever wish to have anything to do with her. They slept in the same bed for roughly four hours a night, and that was the extent of their marriage. No friendship, affection, communication, or anything of that sort. Just cold shoulders and blatant disregard.

It's worked well enough for them so far, and Tsuna already had a sinking suspicion on what this talk was going to be about./p

She almost wished that the note actually was a warning for her future demise.

(Not that it wasn't; it just wasn't the demise she was hoping for.)

* * *

Children.

Tsuna wasn't exactly sure of her opinion of the tiny humans, but apparently she was expected to have one in her within a year. Or so says some fancy mafia advisers according to Xanxus.

She had always thought that the boss of a crime family would have the final say about everything. Guess she shouldn't base her knowledge off of old movies. But then again, Xanxus isn't the boss yet, so maybe those fancy advisers are actually the ninth and his guardians.

Tsuna wrinkled her nose in distaste. And to think that she had used to call that old man "grandpa" when she was younger. Now here he was telling her that she had to get pregnant for the good of the Family.

* * *

Her first time had been, well, clinical was a good way to put it. Awkward would be another good description. It hadn't been unpleasant in the way she had thought it would have been, but it also hadn't been anything like those books her mama owned had said it would be.

For which she was definitely grateful; if Xanxus had suddenly begun to stroke her hair and whisper sweet nothings, she's sure she would have stuck her foot in her mouth and made everything even more awkward.

Awkward and Dead.

It seemed like that was how she was destined to go out of this world.

So, yes, the first time had been weird, the second time had been weird, all of the times up until the last and final fifth time had been weird. And awkward. All repeat performances of the exact same process. Tsuna desperately hoped that she was now pregnant, and that the kid turned out to be a boy so she wouldn't have to do any of that ever again.

After the Event that the entire Vongola Family had been waiting for occurred, things had gone back to the way they were before. Granted, the gossip had changed topics, but only slightly. Now it was on the matter of if she was actually going to get pregnant, the gender of said child, and if Xanxus was going to kill her after the birth.

Truly, what a charmed life she had.


	3. Chapter 3

Notes: As always, not beta read. There's definitely something weird happening with the tenses, but I am so tired of looking at it that I just left it. Please feel free to share any corrections - I would greatly appreciate them.

* * *

They were back to ignoring each other again, which, honestly, worked perfectly fine for Tsuna. They still slept in the same bed, as they always had, but the business week of awkward touching and avoiding eye contact while they both pretended that they wanted what was happening had yet to make a repeat appearance. Tsuna was infinitely grateful for that fact and had briefly considered taking up praying in the hopes of some divine entity taking pity on her and her husband. If she was lucky, maybe some god or spirit or demon or _whatever_ would grant them a son so that week would never have to happen again.

The servants were much kinder now that she had begun the process of what most apparently thought was her one purpose in life, and Tsuna was thankful that the maids' hushed whispers had moved on from her in favor of much more interesting gossip.

There were exactly as many scandals in the mafia as Tsuna had thought there would be, and she enjoyed sitting by the window in her bedroom as the same three maids tittered every morning over who was caught with their pants down or their skirts hiked. It was almost like she was still in Namimori, quietly listening to her classmates talk trash about one another whenever they could. Though the mafia gossip was a bit more intense than any students' talk would ever be.

And while she still missed her friends like an open wound – there was a very distinct, Hayako-shaped hole in her life that she desperately wished wasn't there – Tsuna found that living in Italy was a lot like living in Namimori before the mafia had forced its way to the forefront.

So long as she stayed quiet, most people would ignore her despite her over-all strangeness. And because of her position in the Vongola, most of those who didn't ignore her wouldn't even dare to breathe in her direction, let alone approach her to share their opinions. It was lonely, there was no lying about that, but at least she wasn't being heckled over whatever it was these criminals found her lacking in.

Sometimes though, Tsuna can't help but to think that she wouldn't mind being teased so long as someone would just _talk_ to her.

* * *

Something up there must have heard her, because her prayer had been answered. She couldn't say that she had been happy when the ninth's sun guardian invaded her personal space, but it was well worth it when the man had cheerfully congratulated her with a big grin on his tattooed face. She hadn't actually understood what he was saying at first, but a slim hand landing on her stomach made everything fall into place. She just knew that her look of panic had been seen by all the Ninth's guardians, but they had enough tact not to say anything about it in front of her. She quickly arranged her face in what she hoped was a look of some happiness and murmured a quiet thank-you.

She had stayed in the office for as long as she could manage before politely excusing herself, adamantly not looking at either the Ninth or her husband as she left. If she then locked herself in her suite's bathroom for the next hour? Well, that was really nobody's business but her own.

Tsuna was very proud that she had managed to get her emotions under control before anyone came looking for her – it would have been humiliating if the maids had found her with a runny nose and smeared mascara. And in that hour of sitting in the empty bathtub, she had almost convinced herself that she didn't actually mind that she was pregnant. So, when she finally came out, make-up fixed and all traces of tears gone, to find her husband sitting on their bed with a vaguely lost look on his scarred face, she offered him a bland smile, congratulated him, and left to find something sweet from the kitchens.

Now, she just had to pray that it would be a boy. Maybe she could sacrifice a chicken or something just to make sure? Extra insurance, and all that.

* * *

Tsuna knew that all of her calls were monitored, but she really couldn't bring herself to care. Not when she was finally given "clearance" to talk to Hayako. Now if only she could bring herself to pick up the phone. She had been told – ordered, really – by the Ninth to not mention the pregnancy, but her friend wasn't an idiot. Being allowed to finally reconnect after over a year of silence would be a pretty big indicator of some sort of change, and Hayako was more mafia than Tsuna would ever be – bloodlines and legitimacy be damned. She would know that Tsuna had finally accomplished the one thing the old man had wanted her to, and that she was being rewarded for it like she was some sort of child.

Do your homework, and you can play outside.

Let my bastard son impregnate you, and you'll be allowed to talk to the friend that I picked out for you.

Not that Tsuna _minded_ that the Ninth had picked Hayako for her all those years ago. It was honestly the one decision that the old man had made for her that she truly didn't mind. She loved Hayako more than she thought she would ever love anyone, and it was because of that that she had been wary of calling her. Hayako, for all that she was a tough hitman who spent years roughing it on the streets, was really, rather delicate when it came to her emotions, and Tsuna could still remember the heartbroken look on her face at the wedding reception.

(Hayako hadn't actually been allowed in to watch the ceremony no matter how much Tsuna had cried. Bastards and outsiders were not welcome, is what they told her, and it had enraged Tsuna enough for her to rudely point out that she was marrying a bastard. So why couldn't her bastard friend attend her wedding to her bastard groom? A harsh reprimand from the Ninth and an evening of placating from her mother and Hayako were what it took to get her to finally drop the matter, though Tsuna would never forgive the Ninth for that trespass.)

Sometimes, Tsuna still thought about the thin line of her lips when Hayako had smiled at her that night before Tsuna had been whirled away to fake niceties to some Brevetti woman. Her friend's usually lively face had been paler than normal, and her pretty, green eyes had dulled whenever they landed on the atrocious ring that had been forced upon Tsuna. It had probably been the worst that Tsuna had ever seen her friend, and she had seen her drenched in blood with a gaping hole in her side before.

Knowing that Tsuna was pregnant would probably break Hayako's heart even more, but hopefully – though Tsuna's own heart twisted at the thought – the distance between them and Takeshi's presence with Hayako would lessen the pain for her. Just because Tsuna wasn't ever going to be happy again didn't mean that Hayako couldn't. It was just a matter of _if_ the woman would allow herself to be, and if Tsuna got her way, she would have Hayako laughing by the end of their phone call.

With that in mind, Tsuna determinedly picked the phone off the receiver and dialed the number written on the paper her father had given her. It rang a few times before a refreshingly familiar voice barked out a harsh greeting. Tsuna couldn't help but to laugh breathlessly in relief that she had answered, clutching the phone to her ear like it would allow her to be closer to her dearest friend.

"Hayako," she sighed, her voice soft, "It's been so long."

There was a moment of shocked silence of the other end before a choked up, "Tsuna?"

Tsuna squeezed her eyes shut, desperate to keep the tears at bay as she laughed out an affirmative. "I've missed you," she added last minute, nearly chewing through her bottom lip. She could hear the harsh swallow on the other end followed by a quiet sniffle and a broken, "Me, too."

At that, Tsuna smiled tremulously even though she knew her friend wouldn't see it. It was more for her own sake, anyway. It wouldn't do for the Decimo's wife to fall on the floor, sobbing into the phone like an emotional wreck. Though, Tsuna was definitely an emotional something and listening to Hayako's muffled sobs weren't making anything easier for her.

Despite her best efforts, a few tears managed to slip past her defenses, and Tsuna didn't even bother wiping them away. She just cradled the phone closer, ever careful, and whimpered out apologies.

"I'm so sorry, Hayako. I wanted to call you, but they – but I – I'm so sorry. I missed you so much; I love you, I'm sorry."

And all Hayako would say back was an unsteady mix of "Tsuna, Tsu _na, Tsuna_ " and "It's okay, I love you; you're _okay_ , thank god; I love you, I forgive you, I've missed you so much."

Tsuna wouldn't say that calling Hayako was the best decision she had ever made, but it certainly wasn't one she would ever regret. She just wished that she had been allowed to do it earlier.

* * *

Notes: Not gunna lie, the relationship I have for 2759 in this universe is heartbreaking, but this chapter will probably be the last of it until much, much, muuch later in this story.

Next chapter will be a Xanxus interlude that I'm sort of excited about, but I make no promises about when it will be posted. Might be soon, might be in another half a year, who knows? Certainly not me. I'm also writing another part of this universe that is 805927 in high school that may be posted soon-ish.

Also, I wish that everyone could see the mess I call my writing notes because I'm fucking hilarious.


	4. Chapter 4

_Notes:_ A few people have asked about a reappearance of the OC from Sets of Ten, and I'm very sorry to say that Senpai will not be making a comeback. He's off somewhere in college, making a life for himself, and has probably mostly forgotten about that one weird girl he was almost friends with his last year of middle school. I'm really surprised that a lot of people seemed to become so attached to him, but he's definitely gone for good. So sorry!

((Xanxus pov))

* * *

Xanxus stared at the sleeping girl next to him as if the sheer force of his will would make her disappear.

Although, he supposed that he shouldn't wish that until after she gave birth – girl or boy, it didn't matter, despite what most people thought. Any new, _legitimate_ Vongola blood would be welcome. And he supposed that he should probably stop calling her girl. They were married, no matter how much neither of them had wanted it, and the girl was heavily pregnant with his child.

It would be comical watching her waddle around with her extended stomach overwhelming her tiny frame if it hadn't been his fault. He hated himself even more every time he heard her pained whimpers or saw her rubbing the swell of her belly with that vacant look on her face. Sometimes, when he looked at her, he still saw that knobby-kneed ten-year-old with scratched up palms and uncombed hair instead of his wife. He always ended up drinking more the days that happened.

There was something so inherently fucked up about this situation, and if he could have avoided it, he would have. He would have protected his brothers _(not his brothers, they were never really his brothers)_ better, and maybe agreed to marry that girl all those years ago if he had known that this would be his life as the Tenth.

The girl stirred slightly with a grimace wrinkling her brows, and he took that as his cue to leave. They avoided each other as best they could when awake, and it really was for the best. The girl hated him, he was sure, though she never said as much aloud. She didn't say much of anything, from his understanding – most of the staff apparently thought her to be simple, according to Squalo, and wasn't that just great? There was already enough unrest over this whole mess without the added issue of the help's gossip.

A soft groan alerted him that he had waited too long to leave, and he pointedly looked away from her as he felt her awaken next to him. A small hitch in her breath let him know that she had noticed his presence, and he grimaced. He should have left when he first noticed her waking, but instead he had let his thoughts distract him. He made note to never let it happen again.

He had figured that she would ignore him as best she could and make her way to the connected bathroom to do whatever it was she did in the mornings so he could make his escape for the rest of the morning, but instead, she tentatively called his name, her voice soft like she expected to be yelled at for speaking to him. He winced, remembering how his own mother would sometimes talk to her clients in a similar manner, and turned to her, eyebrow raised in question.

She floundered for a second, visibly surprised at being acknowledged, and Xanxus couldn't help but to share the sentiment. She had been the one to talk first despite the lack of communication, and he would let her say whatever it was she wanted before he said anything.

"I was just – I mean, do you think I could – the office," she stuttered, her Italian still accented just enough to be able to tell that it wasn't her first language. He fought the urge to scoff, biting his tongue from insulting her, and let her finish. She had to visibly calm herself, and Xanxus couldn't help but to find it interesting how she could act so composed in public, shallow smile and perfect makeup, yet still be the same, bumbling idiot anywhere else.

"I was wondering," she started again, voice in a forced steady, "if you would mind me using the office for a nursery."

Now she was the one avoiding his gaze, and Xanxus couldn't help the snort that escaped him. The girl acted like he was going to kill her for the smallest, imagined slight, as if her own father hadn't threatened him over and over again for the past decade over her continued well-being. It was almost like she didn't understand that she was the only thing keeping him in his position of heir. A burning swell of anger stirred in his gut, and he forced it away as well as he could. He wouldn't yell at a pregnant woman – he would never sink that low, if he could help it. He'd take it out on someone later if he had to, but he wasn't going to yell at the girl when she hadn't said anything to deserve it.

He glanced at the section of wall that hid the private office attached to their room. It was, as far as he knew, mostly empty with only the bare minimum of furniture in it. He hadn't used it in years, preferring to keep his work out of the main house, away from nosy elders, and it had sat unused since the failed coup. There was no reason to deny her it, and it would give her something to do. It may even get the old man to stop hinting at his hopes for the bonding or whatever bullshit he spewed during the mandatory family dinners.

"Do whatever you want," he grunted, ignoring how she jumped at the sound of his voice. She whispered her quiet thanks before getting out of bed and going about her morning routine like he had thought she would originally. He couldn't help but to notice how thin she was despite the protruding stomach and frowned. He was sure that woman normally gained weight in their pregnancy, but he wasn't an expert. As far as he knew, she went to all her appointments and nothing negative had made its way back to him, so it was probably fine.

The second the bathroom door clicked shut, he was up and out of bed. Getting dressed took no time at all, and he was soon stalking out of their shared room and into the hallway of the family wing. He sneered at the passing trio of maids that were sent to keep an eye on them, ignoring their murmured greetings.

He had a certain swordsman to find for a spar before he snapped.

* * *

The girl had gone ahead and taken over the office in their room, directing the staff in painting and moving furniture. He was sure that this was the most anyone in the house had heard her speak, and he had overheard a few of the servants whispering about how they hadn't known she spoke Italian. He couldn't help the snort that escaped him then – maybe the brat was smarter than anyone had thought. She certainly had most the household underestimating her, and she had been living with them for nearly four years now.

He had been right in his assumption that her finding something to occupy herself with would get the old man off his back about that bonding bullshit, and he was infinitely thankful that the dinners were spent mostly with the girl talking about her plans for her nursery rather than the old man dropping hints and making pointed remarks. The ninth was nowhere near as subtle as a mafia don should be, but he guessed old age and family made it different.

He had also been right about the girl being too thin for a pregnant woman, and he was much less pleased with that. She had been put on bed rest for the remaining three months of her pregnancy, which had suited Xanxus just fine – made it easier to avoid her during the day, but it was the fact that the idiot had apparently not been eating properly that annoyed him.

If anything happened to that baby, they would both be put in a position he was sure neither of them ever wanted to revisit, and the stupid girl couldn't seem to grasp that. She still wouldn't eat everything she was supposed to regularly, and then when she did, always under the careful eye of some Sun or other, she would end up getting sick and throwing it all up. It was more than he could handle, the sickly, sweet scent of vomit clinging to her and the growing paleness of her skin, so he left.

He forced a mission away from the Varia for himself and his guardians, said a short farewell to his bedridden wife who had taken to spending all her time in her finished nursery, and got the hell out of the main house like the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels. Even in the car, he could feel the old man's disappointed gaze on the back of his neck, but he had years of ignoring his disapproval under his belt. Besides, it was for the best that he left, even if only for a short while. He was probably the one making the girl sick in the first place.

* * *

The mission had been disappointingly easy, which meant that he had returned a couple days before scheduled. He had contemplated staying away for a few more days anyway, but he knew that he would never hear the end of it from the old man if he had. So here he was, trudging up the steps to the main house in a downpour, the water weighing down his already heavy jacket and hair. The butler scurried out of his way when he yanked open the door, the corner of his lips pulled up in a growl, and he could see a pair of maids trying to hide in the shadows of the staircase.

The way to his room was thankfully devoid of servants, but he couldn't help the growing dread of the inevitability of seeing his wife. If he was lucky, she'd be in that nursery of hers, sleeping or whatever it was pregnant women did with their day. However, luck had never truly been on his side, despite what he had thought when he was younger.

The large windows at the other side of the room were open despite the storm outside, curtains whipping inwards with the wind and letting rain drench the carpet. He stalked across the room to close the windows, grimacing at the squelch beneath his boots before turning to look for his idiot wife.

The girl had left the hidden door to her nursery wide open, showing him the pale blue paint covering the once beige walls and the fancy, wooden furniture that looked like they were probably some sort of heirlooms. The girl was laying on a chaise lounge across from the crib, in easy sight from the entrance, her round stomach seemingly even more pronounced than it had been four days ago.

"Oi," he snapped, annoyed at nearly everything, "what the fuck were you thinking?"

He could see her jerk awake and didn't feel a single ounce of guilt at her scared look. Her head whipped towards him instantly, and he could see the whites of her eyes and her lips parted in a silent gasp. She was real fucking lucky that he wasn't someone trying to kill her because she had chosen the worst possible place to defend herself, and he would bet that she didn't even think of moving the gun he knew she had under her side of the bed into her little project.

"Xanxus?" she murmured, confusion filling her voice. "You're back early."

"Yeah," he snapped, "And I came back to my room being fucking flooded."

She frowned and pushed herself up with some difficulty. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Xanxus made note of the fact that she was supposed to be on _bedrest_ not reclining on shitty piece of French furniture that probably didn't supply any sort of back support.

"I was airing out the rooms," she replied, hand cradling her stomach. The sight of it made something unpleasant twist in his own stomach and he decided to ignore it for now.

"During a thunderstorm?" he asked, his incredulity obvious even to himself.

"I wanted to get the nursery aired out before you came back," she admitted with a practiced shrug of her shoulders, too casual to be anything but uneasy. "I've decided to sleep in here."

Xanxus rolled his eyes, "And why is that?"

"Just because," she answered, staring obstinately at the wall. Xanxus could feel the dull simmer of irritation already settled in his gut roil and bit back a snarl.

"Why don't you just sleep in your bed," he asked, teeth gritted to hold himself back as much as he could. The girl grumbled to herself, her annoyance at being woken up too soon paired with her pregnancy making her brave.

"It's not _my_ bed," she snapped, "It's _yours_. I'll do just fine in here."

"You're an idiot," he couldn't help but to snap back, growing angrier at her flinch. "This is your fucking room, too, dumbass. If anything, it's more yours than mine, now, so you might as well use it instead of locking yourself away like some sort of fairytale and making yourself even more sick."

The rough, cadenced accent he had grown up on the streets using had come out in full force despite him thinking that he had gotten rid of it years ago, and he growled in frustration, running a scarred hand roughly through his hair, fingers snagging on the feathers dangling by his ear. The taste of blood in his mouth let him know that he had bit threw his cheek, and the familiarity of it calmed him down some. He refused to look at the girl even when he heard the tell-tale sounds of her tearing up.

"Okay," she replied softly, "I'm sorry." He was surprised to hear her speak in Japanese after years of her not doing so in his presence, and something about that made the anger inside him deflate. He exhaled loudly, tilting his head back and feeling the cold, still drenched fabric of his coat against the back of his neck. He was too tired to deal with this anymore, and he cracked his neck in irritation.

"Whatever," he grunted, the foreign language settling oddly on his tongue as he headed towards the closet to change out of his mission clothes, "Just – stop being an idiot."

"I can't exactly help it," she responded, a surprising amount of attitude in her voice, and he huffed out a silent laugh.

"Believe me, I'm well-aware of that," he said dryly, sliding on a dry shirt, "But fucking try."

"I'll do my best then," she muttered, and when he moved to look at her, she had already turned her back to him from where she sat on the bed. Her shoulders still seemed ridiculously thin, but they were set in a way that made her seem stronger than he knew she was. It seemed that she had decided she was done with the conversation, and Xanxus snorted as he left the room.

She was still such a brat.

* * *

 _More Notes:_ So, writing Xanxus is actually a lot more enjoyable compared to writing Tsuna. He has much more of an idea of what's going on in the Vongola compared to Tsuna, who is actually pretty clueless when it comes to her position (but in her defense, it's not like anyone has told her anything). Likewise, Xanxus has very little knowledge on anything when it comes to Tsuna and is also dealing with some feelings about the age difference (but in a very poor way). My sad children have no concept of communication, and it makes everything awkward and sort of depressing.

Also, I'm contemplating writing three Xanxus chapters then going back to Tsuna instead of my original plan of having an interlude with three different scenes in his pov. It probably wouldn't be a regular thing, but I figured I could have interludes of him whenever I feel more information that Tsuna doesn't know is needed or whenever I get tired of writing in Tsuna's pov (bc it's surprisingly draining and i don't deal with emotions well). Thoughts?


End file.
